


Chalky Goes to Art School

by BeezandBitches



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 2 am gave me terribly wild ideas, Alcohol, Art School, Drug Use Mentioned, Gen, Jealousy, Kinda, Love Triangle, Student Film Making, Written by an almost art major, Yall like milfs? that’s Ms. V, art is wild man, beer pong, college party, self discovery, spray painting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2020-10-27 21:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20766974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeezandBitches/pseuds/BeezandBitches
Summary: Title really says it all. Pollution heads to art school to learn about what makes things pretty to humans and has to go through your typical college experiences.





	1. Chalky Weiss, Freshman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pollution’s been a little lost since the failed end of the world, and wanted a new hobby, so why not kill two birds with one stone?

Being a supernatural entity bound to the world for millennia for the sole purpose of causing massive cataclysmic destruction and inevitably bringing about the end times could get a little stale once and awhile. That’s why the Riders of the Apocalypse tended to get a new hobby or two every few decades. 

War was a great dancer, a record-holding surfer, and knew every form of combat humanity had ever created. Famine was particularly interested in interior design, writing, and shopping for fancy suits that he’d wear once and never again. Pestilence took up reading and fishing and had recently gotten into flea market crawling. Even Death enjoyed a good play, Shakespeare or  _ ‘Hairspray’ _ preferably, from time to time. Pollution had skateboarding and social media binging, but something inside gave them this urge to find a new quirky little hobby. Something to pass the time, Lord knows they had plenty of it.

“You’re gonna do  _ what _ ?” War asked over the four way skype-session. Business called and when it did, you had to answer. She had been stirring the pot in Europe for about a week, while her compatriots took to other points of the globe. Famine went back to New York for a month or two to handle some meetings with his company and also to surprise Frannie. Pestilence remained in Cabo as he had been for years now. Death didn’t know how Skype worked. And Pollution was currently on a plane to California, their only luggage being forged birth records, a ton of snacks, and a sketchbook.

“I’m gonna go to art school for a semester.” Pollution said as they absentmindedly scribbled on the pristine white papers, making sure to smudge bits of graphite on the plane seats and trays and even the window. “Pick up a new hobby.”

“Chalky, that’s so much effort. School.” War said as she leaned onto a bow staff. “You have forever, why not just teach yourself?”

“Because I don’t know jackshit about art. I know what pretty things are, like flowers and bees and shit. But, they’re gross. So I need someone to explain why somethings are considered pretty.” That was Pollution’s roundabout way of telling War to fuck off, they’d do whatever they want. That and the occasional tossing of in-flight peanuts at the screen, which would fall to the ground and would be crushed as soon as it hit the ugly flooring.

“Let them have their fun, Carmine.” Famine said as he looked up from a pile of paperwork he had on his desk. “You’re just mad that you didn’t think of going to surfing lessons before you fell flat on your face at regionals.”

“I said I'd kill you if you ever brought that up again and I won’t hesitate to make good on that promise next time we see each other.” War tapped the camera of her laptop with the blade of a red pocket knife she always carried on her as if that was supposed to intimidate him.

“Chalky, I think your new little venture can do you some good. Variety is the spice of life, as humans say.” Pestilence spoke up. “What’re you going to try first? Painting, sculpting?”

“Thanks Wyn. Dunno yet, actually. Might do a little of everything.” They were currently drawing a half-assed sketch of War. Whenever she was mad her face got real expressive, so it was a pretty good subject to study. Least that’s what Google said.

“Just have some fun. Don’t go crazy, though. Art students are practically feral.” Famine said.

“Aren’t all humans a little feral?”

“Fair point.” 

The funny little beep over the plane’s speaker alerted Pollution of their incoming landing. They’d head to the campus right after landing. 

Look out, art school. Here comes Chalky.

———

You would think that someone like Pollution, who looked as if they didn’t know what soap even  _ was _ with their ratty white hair and dark splotches of oil and grease all over their tracksuit and skin just strolling along on campus grounds with no clear destination, would attract a lot of attention. But, considering this was an art school, they looked mostly normal compared to some of the actual human beings there to get an education.

In the seas of pink and blue and green and shaved and buzzed and painted hair roaming campus, ‘Chalky Weiss’ seemed to fit right in. Well, except for the fact they seemed to have no idea where they were going. The weirdly labeled map of the campus didn’t seem to help in any way. 

Currently, Pollution was trying to find room A665 for their ‘Drawing 101’ lecture and they needed to find it in the next 10 minutes or else they’d be late. Not a great start to a semester, really. Even if this was just a little side hobby, punctuality was important. Maybe they shouldn’t have stopped at the vending machines for shitty coffee and takis when they got lost by the theater wing. But, at least now there was another crushed paper cup and crinkly chip bag floating around in the world.

After stumbling through about ten or so adjacent hallways they seemed to finally find the drawing hall. They only really realized this once they saw broken pencils and random students sketching as they sat by the walls, each with some kind of coffee beverage at their side, not really talking to anyone else. All that could be heard was the scratching of graphite against paper and faint anime music coming from someone’s headphones. It was almost deceivingly quiet, except for the very clear feeling of artistic impulse brought on by the taste of shitty coffee and weeb sounds.

These were their people.

The best thing about college was the ability to go chameleon at any point and just blend in with the crowd and it be totally fine. Pollution didn’t like being noticed by humans, so sitting in a crowded lecture hall with people who really couldn’t care to ask about them fit just fine.

Drawing 101 was taught by a professor whose name Pollution didn’t catch. She did look a lot like Cruella De Vil if she had went after cheetah cubs instead of puppies because this woman wore cheetah print everything. From her top to her toes she was decked out in a print that should’ve been left in the 80s. So, Pollution just started referring to her as Ms. V. And so far, Ms. V’s class was making the most sense to them. The other classes they had all talked about art like it was some fruity frou-frou shit that had some deep mysterious understanding to it. Ms. V did not, not by a long shot. She talked about art as if the creative form stole 20 bucks from her in the 70s and she’s still pissed about it. Slightly bitter, but realistic and honest.

Their first bit of homework was to find something out in the world that they thought looked cool and take a picture of it. Then sketch it, and they’d compare both and discuss what parts of it were given the most attention. Simple enough, right?

Well it was up to Pollution to find something they thought looked cool without drawing way too much attention. Their first choices were obvious, trash. Whether it was a couple plastic cups haphazardly thrown by a dumpster or a stack of white claws piled tall outside a frat house, trash was trash. They liked trash. But was it a little too on the nose? They wanted to find out why normal humans thought certain stuff was pretty, so maybe they should focus on typically pretty stuff?

“Hey.” Pollution said as they looked up from the blank page in their sketchbook that they’d been staring at for about twenty minutes and looked at their suitemate. Yes, Pollution had a suitemate. Roommates weren’t going to work out considering the toxins they tended to excrete would’ve probably killed them, but sharing a living room with someone was fine. Their suitemate was a sophomore girl, definitely didn’t catch her name either, but she wore so much pink they’d be surprised if she wasn’t actually Strawberry Shortcake in disguise. They caught her in the middle of playing  _ ‘Just Dance’ _ on the common room TV. “What’re things you think are pretty?”

“Hmm..” She thought for a second, pausing the game. “15th century gothic cathedrals and hibiscus flowers.”

“Thanks.” Pollution nodded. They were going to have to google both of those because they had no idea what either were, but they were worth a try. “Why are they pretty?” They asked as they pulled out their phone.

“Whatcha mean?” The pink one asked as she plopped down on the couch they sat on.

“I mean why do you think they’re pretty?” Pollution said. “What makes em.. stand out?”

“Hmm..” She swung her legs in thought. “Well the flowers are pink, that’s my favorite color. The cathedrals are deeply haunting and feel like my soul could either be stolen or saved just by walking in the door and I like to live by the luck of a 50/50 chance like that.”

Pollution kind of just looked at her for a solid ten seconds before nodding.

“Gloria.” She said as she put out her hand. “Gloria Valdez, film major.”

“Chalky.” They said as they shook her hand. Luckily she was wearing gloves and didn’t feel the light layer of grime on their hand. “Chalky Weiss, undecided.”

“Do you got a preferred medium?”

“I’m trying a little everything.”

“Ooh, fun. Word to the wise, when or if you do sculpting, wear clothes you don’t mind getting messy.”

“Don’t worry,” Pollution smiled a slightly dreamy smile at the thought of grime. “I like a little dirt.”

It was gonna be an interesting semester, but at least they found their first friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I make Gloria and Pollution gay together? Maybe. We’ll see.


	2. ‘Subjective’, Adjective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gloria and Ms. V give very different kinds of advice.

The next day, Pollution walked into class with a couple rough messy sketches of Notre Dame and a hibiscus bush. They didn’t look bad at all, really, they looked fine. But they just didn’t like how they turned out. And maybe they didn’t need to sleep but they weren’t about to spend all night awake sketching things that they weren’t proud of. That was the first sign they were really an artist, but they clearly didn’t see that. They got a good grade for their work, they understood the assignment fine, but it wasn’t quite right. They knew it too.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Gloria said as she held a piece of electrical tape in her mouth, wrapping a microphone wire with the rest. “Not everything’s a masterpiece.” 

“I get that, but I don’t get it. If that makes sense.” Pollution said as they flicked the crumpled sketches into a wastebasket lying sideways on the floor. They’d dump the whole thing fully out later but for now it was for improv soccer. “I mean.. Why don’t I think it’s pretty? Isn’t pretty universal?”

“Well.. Yes and no.” Gloria said. “For instance. Some people would say a church built during an age of religious corruption could be seen as a reminder of a blight on history. Others would just see a regular building where your parents drag you to listen to some old guy talk about a book for an hour. It’s all subjective.” 

“Well, I don’t like that.”

“Neither do a lot of people, Chalky. But you learn to live with it.” Gloria finished taping her mic and swung it around a bit, knowing she shouldn’t but she spent her own money on it, she’ll do as she pleases. Then, her watch beeped. “Aw, Christ it’s my camera man. He’s ditching me to go see Lindsay Lohan in concert.”

“I didn’t know she made music anymore.”

“She doesn’t, that’s how I know he’s lying to me.” Gloria huffed as she tossed her mic on the couch. “Bastard.” 

“Sounds like one, that’s for sure.” Pollution shook their head.

“Say, why don’t you come with me tonight to film instead. I’m gonna go down to the old railway tracks a few blocks from Sleazy Cheese’s Pizza. Best place to get a pie for a dollar fifty.”

“Only if we can stop and get some on the way.” Pollution nodded. It had been awhile since they had any decently grease-soaked food, which was their favorite kind. 

“Like I’d ever turn down Sleazy Cheese’s.” Gloria said. “If you have any shoes with padding wear those. Helps with the sound quality.”

“Zero idea what that means, Gloria, but alright.” Pollution watched Gloria cover her mouth as she held back a snort. 

“I like you. You’re funny.” Gloria said. “We can go around.. 9?” 

“Sounds good.”

“Bitchin’. I gotta head out, I’ve got class.” Gloria said as she put on her purely-for-aesthetics short pink coat and got her mic. “See you later, Chalks. And remember, subjective.”

As she walked out the door, Pollution watched her. She had a funny little strut when she walked. Like a model with a broken heel, but could still nail it down the runway. A lot like a weird snake they knew.

“Subjective, huh.” Pollution muttered as they curled their legs up and started to doodle.

——

A long lecture in Ms. V’s class lead to a long nap for Pollution. She had gone on some rant about her ex-husband who, funny enough, was an art dealer. All anyone learned that day was rich people were suckers for anything that had a pretty, marketable name attached to it. 

“And that’s why you all should always get a lawyer before selling your pieces.” Her speech was interrupted by the ding-dong of the clock letting everyone know they could up and leave. “Remember class, your next sketches are due Thursday by midnight! Just take a decent photo of them and email me.” 

As the students started to flood out of the exit, Pollution was left at the stands, still asleep, still drooling slightly on their arm. Ms. V spotted them as she was on the way out and felt nice enough that day to go wake them.

“Hey, class is over.” She poked them slightly, they only stirred slightly. “Jesus, do kids these days not know what shampoo is?” She muttered at the sight of Pollution’s  _ really _ wack looking hair. 

Ms. V got a particularly mean but effective idea, at least it used to wake her up back when she slept through lecture all those years ago. So, she took her binder full of papers yet to be graded, and slammed it on the table. 

It was pretty hard to catch an apocalyptic being created with the sole purpose of destroying the world off guard. It was even harder to scare them, on a normal day at least. It wasn’t Pollution’s proudest moment when they fell backwards out of their chair, onto their ass, and nearly smacked their head on the table behind them.

“Ow..” They hissed, straightening up and looking at Ms. V. “What was that for?”

“Well class ended about five minutes ago and legally I have to lock up so no one comes in here to smoke.” She extended her hand to which Pollution took. She shivered slightly from how cold and weird it felt, but that mostly came from their natural grease. “Chalky, isn’t it?”

“That’s me.”

“I loved your sketch of Notre Dame, you really captured the deeply hollow feeling you get when you look at the caved entrance ways and windows.”

“Oh.. Thank you? I just kinda drew what I saw.” Pollution picked up their bookbag. “Hey, um, do you think you could answer a question for me?”

“Well, if it has anything to do with how to get key scratches out of your car door or how to get banned from Queens, I'm your gal.” Ms. V laughed, but Pollution wasn’t sure how it was supposed to be funny, and their lack of a response made her stop almost immediately. “So what's your question?”

“What do you consider art?” I mean, she  _ was  _ an art professor after all. Maybe she had some good insight.

This made the older-in-appearances woman stop and think. She tapped her chin thoughtfully with one long, intricately done false nail as her lips pursed. Pollution watched the ideas swirl in her eyes.

“Art.. Is a lot like real life.” Ms. V started. “You start out real slow, mess up a lot in the middle, and come out either on top or in a fire. That’s really just up to how you spin it, especially if you gamble.”

“And.. that means?” Ms. V tsked.

“It  _ means _ , It’s really unpredictable. Anything can be art if you really try, I guess. Depends how and when you look at it.” She said. “Artists are real stuffy types. Something weird and quirky trends for a couple years and suddenly it’s avant-garde to splatter paint on a board and call it ‘A Look at the Mind’ even if you just made it while high on second hand weed.” She collected her binder from the table as she and Pollution made their way to the door. “Funny enough that’s how my old roommate got away with bullshitting his senior project.”

“You got a lot of stories like that?” Pollution asked, a small chuckle escaping their lips. Humans were pretty funny sometimes, the things they got into.

“Oh kid, I got more stories than this place has colored hair.”

Pollution wasn’t used to being called ‘kid’ by anyone, and technically that was possibly the most wrong nickname any human could give them, second only to something like ‘Greenie’ as if anyone would even consider calling them that, but they didn’t correct her. After all, it’s not like they knew her actual name.

“The point is,” Ms. V said as she locked the door to the lecture room. “Art is ever changing. You never know what some wackjob millionaire is gonna pay for and in response a million duplicates will be made.”

“So arts about following the highest price? That’s what makes things pretty to people?”

“Sometimes but, art is subjective.” That phrase again.. “Sometimes high paid shit is god ugly.”

“Right..” Pollution muttered. So it didn’t have to do with money and it didn’t have to do with appearances. Then what was it?

Well, they’d have to find that out on their own.


	3. That’s Loco! Locomotive.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chalky and Gloria go hang out together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a hot minute but I hope y’all enjoy.
> 
> Leave some love and comments below and have a wonderful day!

The ride down to Sleazy Cheese’s on the back of Pollution’s motorcycle had been the scariest goddamn thing Gloria had ever experienced. The whole way she looked like a cat, fur up claws out, clinging to a scratching post for dear life. It wasn’t that Pollution was a ‘bad’ driver, no, it was more that they were a crazy driver. They sped between cars stuck in traffic, Gloria holding onto their waist like it was the end of the world. She felt her heart start beating again once they parked outside the pizza place.

“Chalks, next time, we’ll take an uber, ok?” She said as she climbed off the bike, fixed the medium-sized bag of equipment slung over her shoulder, and found her footing on the busted up pavement. Pollution followed suit, spinning the key to their bike on their finger as they did so.

The smell of garlic butter and semi-burnt cheese coming from the premise mixed sickeningly with the almost tangible cloud of diesel coming from Pollution’s bike. That coupled with the close proximity to the highway already made this place look good in their eyes. 

“Welcome to the cheapest hot spot this side of La-La Land,” Gloria announced as she pushed the door open, letting the welcome bell jingle. The inside of Sleazy Cheese’s looked like any other inexpensive hole-in-the-wall restaurant, a little dirty, a little sticky, with copyright-free cartoon Italian chefs plastered on the wall, a couple of tables covered in plastic red-and-white checkered liners and low seating metal chairs that weren’t very comfortable. They even had a small coke fridge that’s light flickered every so often. The best part was the chalkboard decorated with low priced pizza choices hanging up behind the counter where the cashier was building a tower out of sugar packets. The whole place felt like a poor college student’s dream.

“Looks nice.” Pollution nodded as the two stepped inside, Gloria not even noticing the trail of trash that followed them in. They looked over all the cheesy decor, all of it made from cheap plastics and faux ceramics, and smiled slightly. It was charming in its own way.

If felt like there was a thin layer of glue on the ground as they made their way over to the counter, the teenager sitting there not even noticing the two of them for a solid couple minutes.

“I highly recommend their spinach and ham slices.” Gloria set her elbows on the counter, meeting eyes with the employee. “Sup, kid? Can I get a cherry coke and a slice of number three..” She turned back to look at her suitemate. “What about you Chalks? It’s on me.”

Pollution scanned their eyes over the menu briefly. They weren’t picky, they just wanted a mouthful of sauce and oil. 

“I’ll have what you’re havin’.” Gloria nodded.

“Make that two of both.” She said as she paid for the two of them. The employee handed her receipt and two coke bottles. 

“It’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Cool, thanks.” Gloria nudged Pollution slightly as the two of them walked to an empty table far enough away from the other patrons who were either fellow college students crunching for class or your local drunks there for warm beer. 

“So, is this what suitemates usually do?” Pollution asked as Gloria slid one of the cokes across the table to their hands. 

They hadn’t really spent a lot of one-on-one time with humans. Pollution was never one for big crowds or parties, so unlike War or Famine who had their friends and lovers, Pollution was a workaholic. But sometimes, they had to admit, some humans were fun. Gloria sure seemed like it.

“Sometimes. My last suitemate I never really met, she was hauled up in her room for days on end,” As Gloria told the story she smacked the glass bottle’s lip on the edge of the table, sending the top flying. “sometimes I’d hear bangs and crashes coming from her door but I’ve seen too many films that start out with the cute girl getting axed because she was too nosy.”

“Did you just call yourself cute?” Pollution chuckled as they followed her lead and uncapped their soda. It clang onto the floor, and they left it there along with the plastic stuck to their shoe and the small pile of straw wrappings starting to form under the table.

“Aren’t I?” She said, doing a fancy lil’ hand-to-chest gesture as if to say ‘moi?’. You know the kind.

The two of them shared a nice laugh as they looked around the place. Nice vibes.

“So, how’s your journey to artistic self discovery going?” Gloria asked as she took a sip of her soda. “Any big revelations today?”

“Well, I talked with my drawing professor-“

“Oh! I was meaning to ask you which one you had because I think I still have my notes and if you have Stewards, it’ll get you through like 90% of his class.”

Pollution bit their lip and averted their eyes. Shit. They still didn’t know Ms. V’s real name, and maybe they shouldn’t care what one meaisley human thinks of them, but dammit it was kinda embarrassing.

“Uh.. Ya know, cheetah print?” They motioned to their whole outfit. “Brown short hair. Kinda looks like-“

“Cruella De Vil?” Gloria finished their thought

“Yes!” Pollution snapped their fingers into a finger gun-point. “Her!”

“That’s Ms. Valentine. Little cuckoo in the coconut but she’s a good teacher. I had her for screen printing.” 

Valentine! Close enough.

The two of them stayed talking about a myriad of things as their pizza got there. The slices were practically dripping grease, staining and soaking into the one-use plates Pollution was so proud of.

“So, what brought you to art school?” Pollution asked as they took a bite of their pie, the cheese pull was oozy and stringy and slightly burnt but damn was it good.

“Oh ya know, same as any artist.” Gloria said. “A deep longing to share my ideas with the world. Also I sucked at math so being an accountant was out of the question. What about you?”

“Eh, my line of work is really..” How to word it? Not like it’s easy to explain your eternal state as a being of pure cataclysmic pollution and waste. “messy, and sometimes I need to just step aside and try something new.”

“I can respect that.” Gloria nodded, wiping some stray sauce from her lips. “And the whole ‘what is pretty?’ thing?”

“Kind of a metaphor,” A lie, but a necessary one. “Just trying to find myself.” Now that? Mm, not so much.

“Spoken like a true art major.” She chuckled.

“Ok, now I got a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“What’s with the pink?”

That night, Gloria was decked out in a strawberry-print jacket, a ruffled skirt, two huge hoop earrings with small strawberry charms dangling from them, and a cute shade of bubblegum lipstick that matched her hair’s color quite nicely.

“It’s a look.” She said, brushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Well, trying to look like I escaped Candy Land.”

“Well you’ve succeeded.” Pollution said, a smile spreading onto their lips.

“Well, it’s also part of my costume. Way easier trying to write a character who shares your aesthetic.” She had a point there.

“Is that so?” They asked. “Never written before. Might try it.”

“It’s a mess but a fun mess. Really gets you to explore the deepest parts of yourself.”

Pollution knew Famine had written a book on dieting, but that wasn’t so much a self discovery thing as it was an ‘I have an eternal duty to ruin humanity’ thing. Not exactly tit-for-tat. But writing fiction sounded fun.

“How’s your pie?” Gloria asked.

“Really good,” Pollution said as they wiped their mouth of sauce.

“I think this calls for a suitemate selfie!” Gloria said as she pulled out her phone and before Pollution could agree or protest, she snapped a photo. “Ohh, were cute. I’ll send it to you.”

Ring! Message sent.

Pollution let out a little sigh, they had to admit it was a good photo.

———

After finishing up at Sleazy Cheese’s, they had decided to walk down to the train tracks, it wasn’t very far and after eating a full meal, Gloria wasn’t certain she’d be able to stomach the speed Pollution liked to ride at.

While Gloria set up the lights and the shot, Pollution was sitting on the sidelines, trying to get acquainted with the tech. Namely, the camera equipment.

“So how’s this thing work?” They fiddled with the buttons on slightly as Gloria bent down by their side. She tapped the touch screen for them, setting it to match up with her fill lights and fix the resolution and zoom. Then, she tapped a small red button at the top of the camera.

“You see when I say go, all you gotta do is press this button, keep a steady hand, and follow me about twenty paces back.” She said. “I’ll walk down the tracks and pretend I'm crying, yell my lines to the sky, yada yada. After I say “You fucking idiot, turn the lens and zoom in on my face.”

“What’s your film about again?” Pollution asked as the two of them got back up. Gloria was ruffling her hair up herself since she didn’t have a makeup artist to do it for her. 

“It’s about this girl, Ronnie, right? And she comes back to her hometown after a freak flood and reconnects with her high school boyfriend.” She straightened out her jacket, wiping off any dust on it. “And the two of them would hang out at the train tracks a lot. But, he’s engaged to another girl, kinda like a Hallmark movie.”

“Yeah?” Pollution nodded, having absolutely no frame of reference.

“Well, were gonna record the big emotional breakdown scene that happens right after the guy tells Ronnie he’s gonna still marry the other girl under threat that she’ll have her dad foreclose on his family’s farm.”

“Wait, Ronnie will?”

“No, no, the other girl.” Gloria said as she took a step over one side of the rail into the middle section.

“So why was there a flood?”

“Well, It was secretly caused by the other girl’s evil corporate father.” Pollution blinked in confusion.

“For the farm?” They asked. They had met quite a few evil corporate businessmen but none so far that could cause a farm-ruining flood.

“..It’ll make more sense after I finish it.” Gloria chuckled awkwardly. She took a small bottle of eyedrops out of her pocket and dripped a couple drops into her eyes, blinked twice, and sniffled. “Ok, in three.. two.. go!”

Pollution hit the red button and followed Gloria as she slowly wandered down the tracks. She was hunched over, hugging herself loosely.

“Dammit.. Fucking-“ She groaned, tossing off her jacket violently to the ground, and covering her eyes with her hands as she fake-sobbed into them. “Ronnie you fucking idiot.” She whimpered and wept.

Pollution zoomed in closely to get a shot of her. It was a nice camera because it could even catch the tears dripping through her fingers. They almost wanted to stop rolling and see if she was really ok, but on the way there Gloria had mentioned she used eyedrops to cry and not to worry.

“You just had to be so damn stupid!” Her hands fell from her face. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her fists balled up tight at her sides. “Like he could ever really love you..”

A few seconds of heavy silence passed, Pollution’s eyes glued to Gloria’s performance. They almost didn’t notice as Gloria shook her head and clapped.

“And scene!” She said cheerfully. “We’ll shoot the next bit in a second but let’s take a look at the footage.”

She picked up her jacket from the ground, shook it off, hopped off the tracks and over to Pollution’s side.

They turned the camera and played the video back, as they did Pollution couldn’t help but look at Gloria watching, judging their work. Sure it wasn’t like they were all of a sudden changing to be a film star, but quality was something that a horseperson strived for in their work, no matter the subject.

“It looks great.” Gloria said. The relief made Pollution stop holding their breath. “We can do a wide shot from a different angle now.”

“Alright, just show me where you need me.”

———

Filming went on for another couple hours, the two of them getting what would amount to 10 minutes of film once cut up recorded. It would be a damn good 10 minutes though, Gloria swore by that.

“So, you wanna head back to the dorms or do you wanna do somethin’ else?” Gloria asked as she put back on her bag of equipment.

“Like what?” Pollution asked as they both made their way to their motorcycle.

“Do you.. wanna go sit on an overpass and throw marbles at oncoming cars?” The way Gloria asked that so casually should’ve raised a few questions, but the suggestion sounded like a lot of fun, so Pollution didn’t think twice about it.

“Sure, you have marbles on you?” They asked jokingly.

“Always.” Gloria chuckled as she pulled a small sack of marbles from her bag. “You never know when you need marbles.”

“Gloria-“ Pollution blinked wildly trying to make sense of that. “What would that-“

“For throwing,” She cut them off and tried listing the reasons on her fingers. “for.. impromptu games of rings. For-“ She groaned “Ok, I stole them and forgot to take them out of my equipment bag.” 

“That makes more sense.”

“Can we go?” Gloria asked, in her voice was a plea to push past her attempt to be cool about it. “Please?”

“Gladly.”

The two of them rode to the closest pedestrian bridge/overpass near campus, parking the motorcycle against the rail just off the street as the two of them sat, their legs dangling off between the bars of the guard rail.

“So..” Gloria said as she plopped the small bag beside the two of them, taking out three and holding them in the palm of her hand as she waited for a car.

“So?” Pollution asked, following her lead.

“How’d you feel about camerawork?” The first car drove close by underneath them, so Gloria made her shot. Bounce! Right off the hood.

“It was,” Pollution rolled their shoulder a little, trying to find the right words. Couldn’t really trash it, but it wasn’t exactly exciting. “Alright.”

“Not your speed?” Thunk! That one hit the roof of a blue sedan.

“Don’t think so.” The next marble just barely missed a mini cooper that was  _ definitely _ speeding.

“Hey, that’s fine.” Gloria said. “What’s good is that you tried.”

The two of them sat quietly for a minute, the most you could hear was the buzz of the street lamp and the low rumble of car engines passing by. And while Gloria’s eyes were on the road below, Pollution’s seemed to wander to her. It wasn’t so much of a problem until she caught them, to which Pollution responded by quickly snapping their sights the other way. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Chalks, look.” Gloria shook their arm slightly to catch their attention. She lifted up one hand which held a single blue marble between her pointer and middle fingers. “Bet you a slice of pizza that I can bounce this marble,” the two of them turned their attention to headlights in the distance, two sets. “Off both of those cars, and hit that road sign.” She pointed to the roadside sign that told oncoming cars there was a gas station about a mile up the road.

“What? No chance.” Pollution said.

“Bet.” Gloria said, quickly hoping to her feet so she could get a better shot over the rail. She charged up her stance, arm pulled back and everything.

Every second the cars inched closer, and Gloria stood perfectly still, ready and waiting.

Almost.

“Are you gonna-“

“Yeet!” She shouted, tossing the marble as the cars made their way under the bridge. The two of them heard a ‘clunk! clunk! ting!’ “Aw yeah!” Gloria cheered as she did a little victory dance.

“Hold on, we couldn’t see it hit the sign!” Pollution said as they got to their feet.

“We could hear it, means I win.”

“That’s cheating!” They said

“Absolutely not.” Gloria chuckled as she picked up the bag of remaining marbles. “Unless,” She places them in Pollution’s hands. “you wanna test your own luck?” They smirked.

“It’s on.” 

———

“Man I am  _ beat _ .” Gloria yawned as they walked into the common room. “I’m gonna hit it, see you tomorrow Chalks.” She waved nicely as she went to her own room.

“Night, Gloria.” Pollution said as they opened their door.

They hopped onto their bed, kicking off a pile of empty sports drinks bottles from it’s dirty sheets and sitting criss-cross as they logged onto their laptop. There was a little alert bubble on the corner of the Skype window, so they clicked it. 

A message from War.

“How’s nerd school?” She asked. “You find out what beauty and aesthetics are yet or are you just mashing clay together and calling it a masterpiece.”

“Actually,” Pollution typed back. “I was working the camera tonight for my suitemate. Shooting a scene for her film, something about a flood and a farm?”

Ding! Quick response, business must be slow for War tonight. That or her cable was out.

“Ooh, so you’re a movie maker now? Fun. Any explosions?”

“Nope. Not getting your fill where you are?”

“No!!! These dumbasses haven’t even picked up a gun yet. I’m getting so boOoOred here, Chalks. ;-;” Wow, she was even using emoticons, must’ve really meant it.

“Sucks to suck, Carm. Hopefully they’ll get their heads outta their ass and get to killing each other for your amusement again.”

“Yeah...” 

Pollution watched the typing bubbles boredly for only a moment before opening their phone instead. They flicked to their camera roll, looking at the selfie again, a faint smile finding its way onto their lips. It had been a really fun night.

Ding! Back to War.

“So, aside from that, what else did you do today?”

“Well, we went to get pizza before the shoot then afterwards the two of us sat on an overpass and threw marbles at oncoming cars.”

“..I'm gonna look past that second part. Just the two of you?”

“Yeah, me and my suitemate, Gloria.”

“You mean you had a  _ date  _ with this girl and didn’t tell us??!!” Had Pollution been sipping something, they surely would’ve choked.

“What?” They mouthed, the faintest whisper of surprise escaping their lips. “No, it wasn’t a date. I was just helping her.”

“Helping someone? That’s pretty gay to begin with.”

“We’re just friends.” Pollution hoped that War could  _ feel _ the eye roll she was getting from their words alone. 

“Friends??? Who are you and what did you do with the real Chalky? Lol” Next time they see each other, Pollution was going to fill her bike’s tank with sugar.

“Carmiiiine.” They were lucky that War hadn’t called them, or else she would’ve seen their face turn just as pink as Gloria’s hair. And only God knows when she would’ve stopped teasing them for that.

“Ok, ok. Fine. I’ll stop (for now). Just don’t scare her off with the dirty goblin schtick you got goin’.”

“Fuck you.”

“Love you too, Chalks. I gotta scoot, think I just heard a couple rounds go off. Duty calls!” And offline she went. As if War had only came on to harass them. 

Pollution sighed as they closed their laptop. They expected she’d tell Famine and Pestilence and Death by the end of the week, and then two, maybe even three if Death didn’t already know the reality of the situation, of them would be trying to ask about their ‘date’, which was definitely  _ not  _ a date, mind you.

Definitely not a date. But.. it was a really, really fun night. Maybe film wasn’t their style but.. Gloria sure seemed to be.


	4. Acid Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pollution finds a medium that works for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How’s everyone doing from home? I hope y’all are safe and healthy. I finally had the energy to finish this chapter and start work on the next one, so quarantines done some good.
> 
> As always if you like this chapter leave some love and comments
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @BeezandBitches
> 
> And have a lovely day!

“So I’m not supposed to do this-“ The groan of a heavy metal door drowned out the whisper of Ms. V’s voice. She flicked the lights on to the room, revealing a relatively cleaned up art studio. Pollution walked in after her, gazing in a sort of wonder-filled way at the room. The whole place smelt of paint and slightly singed wood. It’s floors were covered in a thin layer of sawdust and small splatterings of acrylics. The walls were industrial, but decorated with the works of alumni and current students in the department. “But, the school doesn’t pay me enough to care and I think you won’t break anything unsupervised. Welcome to the advanced studio, kid.”

“It’s huge.” Pollution said, currently staring at a large piece of metal-work shaped like someone covered in hands.

“Yeah. Normally we don’t let anyone but third years or higher in here, but I think you could do good to mess around with some of the gadgets we got. Print shops in the room to the left by the bathroom. If you wanna use the kilm, put your piece inside and it’ll get fired when the next ceramics class comes in.” She handed Pollution a spare key to the room. “Light and vent switches are on the wall. Don’t fuck with anyone else’ art, yada yada, you’re like what? 20? I shouldn’t have to explain much of anything else, you understand basic human courtesy.” That was debatable. But Pollution wasn’t gonna say anything ‘bout that. “Come in around like an hour after we close up, teachers clear out by then.” 

“Thanks a lot, Ms. V.” Pollution said, the older woman just grinned.

“Eh, don’t sweat it. I know how it is to be artistically starved,” Ok, they wouldn’t call it  _ that _ “and have no resources to fix that. So just find something that fits ya.”

“Right..” They hadn’t even got a clue where to start.

Once Ms. V left, Pollution only half paying attention to her reminding them to work on their sketches for class as she walked out, the horseperson cracked their fingers and wandered around, inspecting every machine and every tool. Every half open tub of paint and every half broken bit of charcoal. Something about the messy nature of it all felt like home. Especially the runoff from the charcoal. It wasn’t oil, but it was somethin’. 

However, it was when they came across the spray paints that something intrigued them. They picked up a can of bright green spray paint and shook it a few times. They looked around for what exactly to spray it on, and found a roll of thick fabric saved for canvas building, and thought why not. They cut themselves a decent size and placed it on the ground, and got to work. 

The nozzle spritzed out awkwardly as Pollution was only a little startled from how much came out at once. They found the right distance from the sheet where it wouldn’t clot up in a puddle of slime-green but not come out like a light sprinkle of acid rain. The toxic paint fumes grew heavy in the air quickly, and Pollution reveled in it. Now this was some familiar territory.

And just like that, inspiration hit them.

———

Pollution had spent a total of 45 minutes on the piece before the door to the studio creaked open. In walked Gloria, who had a bag of takeout thai food in hand.

“Yo, Chalky, I made it.” She announced as she found the white-haired bastard with their jacket tied around their waist kneeling on the ground still hard at work. “There you are.” When Gloria walked over her eyes went wide at the sight of their work. “Woah, fuckin cool.”

The mish-mash of spray paint had started to look like an actual thing. More so, an actual place. It looked strikingly similar to an old plastics plant they had frequented a few decades back that had fell out of business. It was a shame too, Pollution had liked the way their flimsy wares would need to be replaced so often and yet take just as long to degrade as any other plastic. The piece sported the outside of the plant, disheveled and dirty and looked as though it was rotting, dribbled paint oozing down from the plant’s surrounding wildlife painted in a much darker, forestry green. They switched the colors up here and there. From greens to blues to black to reds. They were particularly proud of how the chimney tower in the background, it’s clouds a heavy red with splatterings of black, came out.

“Whatcha think?” Pollution asked as they finished a final streak of gold running off what appeared to be a lake filled with rotten black patches.

“Dystopian. I like it.” Gloria nodded as she sat beside them. Her face scrunched slightly at the heavy paint fumes clinging to Pollution’s work like ivy to a wall. “Jesus, Chalks, how can you stand the-“ she coughed a bit. “-paint? You don’t even have a mask.”

“It’s not that bad.” They said as they set the spray cans aside and shifted to sit more comfortably. Paint fumes were like fresh lilacs to them. So many chemicals with much too long names in them.

“But in all honesty, I really like it. You got a good eye for composition and color choice.” They’d hope so, part of being a Horseperson involved extreme commitment to color coordination. “Alright, every artist needs a lunch break.” Gloria handed over the bag of food to them as she opened up her own. “Still can’t believe Ms. V agreed to sneak you in here.”

“She’s nice.” Pollution said through their first mouthful of fried rice.

“You’re a teachers pet, admit it.” Gloria chuckled.

“I am not!” They didn’t really understand what a teacher’s pet even was, but they weren’t stupid. Context clues existed for a reason. And they were no one’s pet.

“You totally are, but I can’t blame you. She’s the only one who would push a passion while also breaking the rules.” The crunch of coconut shrimp could’ve echoed inside the huge studio. “Oh! Good news by the way.”

“What, they cancel your class for next week?” Pollution asked. That morning Gloria had spent an hour moping about a test over impressionism she was definitely going to fail.

“No, no, not that.” Gloria said as she pulled out her phone. “I finally found someone to play the male lead in my movie! Check him out. Cute, right?” She pulled up a photo of the guy in question. 

He was.. ok, looks wise. Shaggy brown hair, green eyes, very slim build, but not slim enough that Famine would consider it a job-well done, looked tall-ish. Dressed like a man who went to art school did, with some thrifted jacket over a plain t-shirt tucked into a pair of worn jeans. He looked like a guy. Pollution had seen many of them in their existence. No idea what made this one particularly attractive.

“That sure is.. a dude.” Pollution nodded slowly, only getting a chuckle from Gloria. They thought she had a nice laugh.

“His name’s Vince. Last person to audition, he ran in late and everything but I said screw it and let him. Lucky break, huh?” They didn’t know how to respond to that. They didn’t see what the appeal was, but good for their friend that she finally got a co-star.

“Yeah. So when are you going to start filming scenes?” Pollution asked.

“In a couple days. Gotta get a couple locations set before, but once that’s over it’s smooth sailing from then on.” Gloria loaded her mouth with noodles and swallowed. “Would you wanna come help on set a couple times, if you’re free?”

“I can do that.” They nodded. “Just text me the places. Also, pass me the soy sauce packets.”

“Here.” Gloria tossed them three little packets that Pollution proceeded to rip open with their teeth.

The art studio would sing with the chuckles and chatter of two unlikely friends and the crackle of styrofoam takeout boxes.


	5. Quiet on Set!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pollution does not like Vince, but not because they’re jealous. Totally.

Pollution road up to the set a few days later, they were filming a chunk of the farm scenes that week about an hour away from their campus on a tiny little patch of land that was dedicated to a local plant nursery. Gloria said a friend of hers knew the family who ran it and they’d be more than happy to let them film there. The thought of being surrounded by so many plants made them gag, but they’d be strong. For Gloria.

Their motorcycle rumbled as they passed the entrance and made it up to a small group of about six people setting up the lights and the cameras by the side of the main building.

“Chalks!” Gloria yelled over their bike and waved them over.

“Hey, Gloria.” Pollution said as they came over. Standing a little ways behind her usual strawberry-self was Mr. Co-Star himself. Vince had been trying to attach a light to a stand for the past ten minutes and finally was able to get it right. “So, how long until you start filming?”

“Almost time. Just got the wind machine to set up and we’re good to go.” Gloria peeked over her shoulder at two guys who were this close to dropping one of the wind machines. “Guys! Lift with your legs!” She turned back to Pollution for a second. “I’ll be right back. Why don’t you go introduce yourself to Vince? I’ve told him all about you.”

“You have?” Pollution questioned. They weren’t exactly used to having people know anything about them, period. They didn’t so much as speak directly to more than 20 humans in the last decade. So, the idea that someone actively talked about them without them being in the room during the conversation was alien.

“Well, duh. You’re my friend.” The sudden crash of metal against the ground made Gloria turn back to the two guys and groan, shouting “That thing better not be broken! We can’t afford another one!” Before taking off as fast as possible.

Pollution peaked over to Vince, who was now chatting with a different member of the crew, and grimaced. Guess they’d better just, as War would put it, bite the bullet and get it over with. 

“Hey.. So, you’re Vince, right?” They said half-flatly as they walked over to him once the other person left.

“That’s me.” He said. “You must be Chalky.” He put out his hand to shake, to which Pollution begrudgingly did. For a noodle of a man, he had a surprisingly strong grip.

“Yep.” Pollution faked a smile. “So, Gloria tells me you did really well at the audition?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t wanna brag but I did take acting lessons since I was in middle school.” Pollution only nodded at his not-subtle brag, trying to be civil. Keyword ‘trying’. “Gloria told me you’re quite the graffiti artist?”

Oh, is that what it’s called? Pollution hadn’t really considered themselves any particular type of artist yet, since they still felt as though they didn’t quite _ get _art. But, they did like spray paint more than just sketching, so I guess it was a step in the right direction.

“Did she?” Pollution said.

“Said your piece captured the morbid realism of toxicity toward nature.” Vince said. Well, if anyone knew anything about toxins it had to be them.

“Ok!” Gloria clapped her hands together, catching the entire crew’s attention. “We’re all good. Ok, we’re gonna shoot scenes four through nine today. Trey can we get you on camera 1 and Danny on camera 2? Chalky-“ She turned to Pollution. “You wanna try the wind machine out?”

“Absolutely.” Anything to get away from this awkward introduction faster. They walked as quickly as possible over to Gloria who showed them how to work the wind machine.

“Just flick this switch when you hear your cue.” She said, pointing at a big red switch. “Simple as pie.”

“Got it.” They nodded. Gloria smiled.

“Great. Alright guys we start in three..” She shimmied off her puffy pink jacket and tossed it onto the directors’ chair, picking up a suitcase that sat beside it as she went to the spot she was meant to stand at by Vince, who was dirtying his costume up a bit, at a busted up wall with rubble beside it. “Two..” Camera lights flicked ‘on’. “Scene four, Reunion at the farm, go!” And as quickly as possible, she put a piece of hay sticking out from her bright pink hair.

And like that, the cameras started to roll.

“Woah, Ronnie Maeve?” Vince said, surprised. “It’s been.. what? Ten years?”

“Twelve.” Gloria said, pretending to dust off her skirt. “Good to see you, Alexander.”

“It’s always just been Alex, Ronnie.” Vince chuckled as he pulled a stray piece of hay from Gloria’s hair. “Your mom told me you moved to the big city. Became a.. seamstress or somethin’ like that?”

“I’ll have _ you _ know I work for the biggest fashion company in Chicago.” Gloria huffed as she dramatically heaved the bag that was actually filled with a few rocks for weight infront of her.

“Whatcha got in there? Rocks?” Vince asked.

“I can’t just leave my work at my home studio. It’s peak season right now.”

“..You _ do _ know we just had a flood in town, right?”

“Of course. Why else would I be in this rinky little place?”

Vince’s face changed to show more annoyance. Pollution watched as he picked up the suitcase with relative ease and set it aside, his hands grazing Gloria’s. They didn’t like that much, but they weren’t sure why.

“This ‘rinky little place’ is your home, Ronnie.” He said.

“Cue wind machine in five!” The guy, Pollution could only assume his name was Trey, from camera 1 called and raised his fingers. They nodded and waited, their finger over the switch.

“Not anymo-“ Gloria panted, tripping over as she tried to stand straight, landing right into Vince’s arms. “ore!”

Pollution’s lips pursed sourily as they flicked on the wind machine. 

It was a pretty strong machine despite its relatively small size, whipping up bits of dirt and pebbles around the two leads, to which Vince held Gloria tighter to help her get back her balance for the shot. Even though she didn’t really need his help. Either way, that didn’t help how Pollution was feeling.

What did help was a random plastic bag floating in from ‘seemingly nowhere’ and blowing right onto Vince’s face, cutting him off guard, causing him to shriek, let go of Gloria, and trip backwards. That was pretty funny.

“Wh- Cut!” Gloria yelled as she looked at her co-star who now was on his back in a small cloud of dirt. Cameras stopped rolling and the wind machine was turned off. “Vince, you alright?” Gloria asked as she extended her hand for him to grab once he stopped wrestling with the gas station bag loosely plastered to his face.

“Yeah, totally.” Vince said, kinda embarrassed as he took Gloria’s hand and hoisted himself back up. “Where did that even come from?”

“It’s just litter, dude. We do live in LA.” Another girl on the set said. “Kinda comes with the territory.”

“Don’t gotta be a smartass, Janet.” Vince huffed as he tossed the bag back on the ground. The clear disrespect to nature would’ve been more enjoyable to Pollution had it been literally anyone else who was doing it.

“Relax. We’ll just reshoot the scene.” Gloria said. “Gotta get it done right one way or another.”

And they did, eventually. After a good two hours of reshooting thanks to mysterious litter assaulting Vince every couple of scenes.

——

“I dunno, Chalks. Sounds like you’re jealous to me.” There was a loud ‘pop’ from War’s end of the video call that could’ve either been gum or a gunshot. “I mean, you did practically throw things at him the whole afternoon.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Pollution groaned as they popped their head back up to look at their computer which sat gingerly on one of the art studio’s big tables, just out of the reach of splatterings of spray paint. They were currently working on a piece for their dorm room, help liven the place up a bit, when the other Horsepeople had called.

“For once, Carmine has a point.” Famine said, turning in his office chair to the left slightly, taking a file from his assistant Frannie who was just out of sight. “Our powers can do some pretty funny things when we feel certain ways.”

“Remember when I got so upset at the treatment of rats in Europe that I caused the black plague?” Pestilence said as he picked up one of his actual pet rats and stroked its fur.

“Heh, Grim was so mad.” War chuckled.

“Look, I’m not jealous, I have no reason to be.” Pollution said as they struggled to uncap a stubborn can. “Gloria and I are just friends. And Carmine-“ They stuck their finger at the camera to stop her before she had the chance to say anything. “Don’t even.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.” She lied.

“Yes, you were.” 

They were cut off by a ‘ding!’ from their phone. Pollution pulled it out of their pocket and checked. It was from Gloria.

“‘There’s a party tonight at Psi Kappa Alpha. Me, Vince, and the others are gonna be there. You in?’” Pollution blinked, trying to decipher whether that was a hidden Greek tomb or not. “Where even is that?”

“It’s a sorority house. Also known as mono-city.” War said.

“Ah mono, fond memories of that one.” Pestilence said. 

“Too much information, Wyn.” Famine said. “Are you gonna go?”

“I’m not much of a party person..” Pollution shrugged.

“You’re not a person either.” He said.

“You know what I mean.”

“I think,” War said “It would be a good idea. That way you can prove your totally bullshit theory that you aren’t seriously jealous of your suitemate’s uncooked pasta looking co-star.”

“That’s giving him too much credit.” Famine said. “But, she’s right. If you wanna be so sure that you don’t hate this guy because he’s sidestepping on you and you’re feelings for Gloria-“

“That is not at _ all _ what I said.” Pollution butted in.

“Then go to the party. Be nice to him. Have a good time. Get mono!”

“Can we even get mono?” They asked.

“Yes.” War said, not even missing a beat. “Don’t ask how I know.”

“...Did you-“

“I said don’t ask!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go.” Pollution said as they texted Gloria back. “If only to prove to you fucks that there’s nothing there!”

“Yeah, yeah. Denials not just a river.” Famine said.

“I fell in that river once.” War said.

“Oh I remember that. I was laughing at you.”

Pollution only could sigh and continue working on their spray painting while drowning out the other horsepeople. Maybe the party would be good for them.

Maybe.


	6. Big Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when you mix Pollution, alcohol, and emotions?

College parties were always one of two things. The best night of the week or a complete and total disaster that no amount of alcohol can wash away the regret from. It was usually a 50/50 toss up on how it would end for most party goers. Fraternity and sorority parties took that ratio and slid the regret meter to 10. 

Warm keg beer, second hand weed, and piss poor conversation helped string the night together. The ladies of Psi Kappa Alpha were sweet though, at least they had clean bathrooms for people to go throw up in and a much tighter rein on the door’s metaphorical velvet rope, plus they would add pop-punk music to their playlists. 

Pollution, thankful for the fact this was an art school sorority, was let in on virtue that they looked less like a garbage fairy and more like an art grad that night. They swapped out their usual oil-stained tracksuit for a more stylish white cuban-style button up, sleeves rolled up to their elbows for extra style points, tucked into a pair of white skinny jeans with a black belt and an almost too-on-the-nose buckle sporting a nuclear waste symbol. Around their neck hung tarnished silver-chains, one decorated with a raw pink-and-black speckled gemstone, it’s back-half coated in silver which had begun to tarnish as well. As War put it once Pollution sent the fit pic to the group chat, they looked “not as disgusting as usual.” which was a big step in the right direction.

They had met up with Gloria in their common room and headed out together. The two of them then found her friends from earlier, Janet and Trey and Danny, unfortunately Vince was there too, inside the house’s living room. All four of them were sitting around with a couple unfamiliar faces, talking about something, probably art-related, that wasn’t all that interesting on it’s own, but the booze made it sound absolutely  _ riveting _ . 

“There they are!” Janet called out. She looked like she was dressed for a night at the opera and not a house party, her outfit being a bright blue, floor length, almost cupcake-y shaped dress.

“...Jan-“ Gloria blinked.

“I don’t judge your fashion choices, Gloria.” Janet said as Trey got up, rolled his eyes and handed Pollution and Gloria each a red solo cup.

“We got choices this time, plus the girls sprung for the pricey kegs.” He said.

“Ooh, did they get Sierra Nevada?” Gloria asked. She glanced at Pollution who looked a little lost. “Oh shit, Chalks, do you drink? I didn’t even ask.”

“I do.” They didn’t, not often at least. Alcohol was something they would indulge in when the other horsepeople and them got together. Even then, they usually stuck to a single glass of gin which lasted them the entire night. Beer wasn’t their specialty, it was more War’s thing. “I’ll take whatever, i’m not picky.”

“Cool, cool.” Trey said as Danny handed him the spear of one of the kegs, filling the cups. “Just so y’all know, after last time, the house rules changed. If you bring up Mac-“

“Ahem.” Danny coughed. They eyed Trey, who only scoffed.

“Sorry, I mean, if you bring up “the Scottish Play”-“ He added big air quotes around it. “You get kicked out  _ immediately _ . New chapter president’s a theater major.”

“Yeesh.” Gloria said as she took a sip out of her cup. “How many people have said it that it had to be made a  _ rule _ ?”

“More than one.” Danny said. They kicked their feet up on the table, narrowly missing Vince’s drink.

“Watch it, dude!” Vince said as he grabbed his cup and held it to himself, drinking whatever was left. “Fuck, hey, Glor, you wanna go dance?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Gloria said, Vince taking her hand much faster than she could have a second thought, whisking her off to the dance floor. “I’ll be back!”

Pollution’s grip on their cup got a little tighter.

“God, can you believe him?” Trey said, earning head shakes from Danny and Janet as Pollution looked over at them.

“What.. do you mean?” They asked, only to get a sideways, little bit uncomfortable glance from the remaining three. The kind of look you’d give someone you didn’t know when they sat down across from you at a lunch table when there were literally ten empty tables all around you. Polite discomfort, with a hint of awkward air.

“You don’t see it?” Danny said. “Vince has mad googly eyes for Gloria. Like bad.”

“He was checking her out all day when we were on set, dude.” Janet said as she took a swig from her cup. “He’s tryna put the moves on her.”

“Like date her?” Pollution’s tone shifted, more shock laced between their words. The others kinda just looked between each other silently for about half a second. Dating wasn’t exactly what they had meant, but sure, they’d go with that.

“Yep, definitely.” Trey said. “Why, you like Gloria too?” He joked.

“N-No! No.” They squeaked. “Not like that, at least. I like her, we’re friends. Just friends.” The way Pollution stumbled on that save made their words extremely unreliable, but the three of them were much too sober to deal with a love triangle, two members of which they didn’t really even know.

“Right.. So, I’m gonna just- go that way.” Janet said as she vaguely-pointed toward the sea of people dancing, doing drugs, and generally being dumbasses for fun, before slipping away.

“Yeah, we should go too. See you around, man.” Danny said as they took Trey’s hand and promptly walked off.

And there, in the sea of noise and people, Pollution was alone with a new cloud looming over them.

——

The next half hour had a weirdly melancholic amount of coasting through the house, nearly invisible to all the humans around Pollution, and sticking to the wall as they watched everyone else have fun.

They sighed, looking down at their red solo cup, still half-full of beer that had started to smell vaguely of diesel. The night was being wasted, and for what? So they could start doubting themself despite being  _ very  _ adamant to the other horsepeople that there was nothing going on with them beyond mild distaste for an average looking dude with a bit of an ego problem? As if, War would never let them hear the end of it. They tried to shove the thought to the back of their mind.

Pollution’s eyes slid back up to the rest of the room. They may have been in a completely different room, but the whole place looked the same. Same blur of people partying like they had no cares in the world other than one another. Must be nice, connecting so easily. 

They had gotten off on the right foot with Gloria, but that might’ve been beginner’s luck. Right now, they had no idea on how to speak to anyone around them. And because of that, they seemed to fade into the back, a silent observer to the chaos. Fun chaos, sure, but chaos regardless.

The sight of a dingy fold-out table being taken out as people cheered sparked some interest though.

Pollution slid through the crowd effortlessly, making their way to the very inner circle of spectators as the first game of beer pong of the night was being set up.

“Alright, who's first?” A tall, bro-looking guy asked the crowd, looking between them for anyone who stood out. And Pollution, who in that moment had chosen to make their presence known, was definitely able to stand out. “What about you, dude?”

“Oh, sure.” Pollution said, not knowing the first thing about beer pong. Though, it’s name implied it was just ping pong but with probably way more alcohol than the average human body needed.

As they stepped forward and got in position against someone, they couldn’t really see their face well because they had a really shitty mullet, and the game began. You would think Pollution, of all beings, would be at least kinda good at bouncing a plastic ball off a plastic table into a plastic cup.

You would be wrong.

17 minutes into the game, their mullet-having opponent had already knocked out 7 of their 10 cups, while Pollution had only gotten 1 out. At this point, they felt like their physical form was 60% gas-station booze and the amount of people who had decided the floor was an appropriate place to get rid of their used cups had doubled. God knows what would happen if they made it to 100%. 

Luckily for the poor girls who would be stuck cleaning up the house the next morning, they had tapped out of the match on principle that the room was starting to spin a little as the first stage of drunkenness hit the horseperson. 

Nausea.

“Shit..” They groaned. While the mullet-dude was busy celebrating their win, Pollution had made their way to the nearest vacant closet, where it would be ok to vomit. If you looked at said vomit, you may think it resembled an oil spill. If you knew better, you’d know exactly why that was. But either way, you’d know it was fucking gross and whoever’s jacket had to suffer for it was gonna be pissed. 

Coming out of the closet and while being momentarily blinded by the bright-ass LED strip lights from Amazon that went around every corner in every room, the next stage of drunk quickly smacked Pollution like a baseball bat to the skull. 

Giggly.

The lights were honestly kind of nice, the heavy need of power for them fed into the amount of light pollution caused on their block. Plus they were fun colors, flashing between reds, and blues, and purples, and a green or two every so often. They made the still-spinning room entertaining, like a kaleidoscope.

The music was actually good too. Whoever was in charge of the playlist that night deserved a fucking highfive because they were playing straight bangers. In reality, someone had just put on Lady Gaga’s  _ ‘Born This Way’ _ album, but considering the party consisted of gay art school students and people with taste, it was pretty popular. And so Pollution, way too wobbly to resist a good dance, decided to hit the floor. 

——

Pollution’s first party experience may have had a rocky start but they were genuinely having a good time now. They danced with a few different people, no one they actually got a name for, and out of every celestial who had the ability to stand up right Pollution’s mildly-drunken dancing was still better than at least 95% of them. 

Then, someone offered them weed. While it was still technically a plant, and that shit was nasty, Pollution was a little too gone to care and accepted. And let me tell you, they may actually tolerate a single plant now.

Pollution had taken a hot minute to sit back in a weirdly lumpy lovesac and let their head catch up to the rest of their body. The lights in the room still looked like fairies dancing above everyone’s heads, no small part thanks to the weed, and Pollution tried to focus on them, only making them more dizzy in the process. 

Pollution giggled softly to themself. Maybe this wasn’t all that bad. Humans, partying, being social. Maybe War and Famine had the right idea for once in their immortal lives, not that Pollution would admit that to them. It certainly was a nice distraction from-

Oh. Oh, yeah. The elephant was still in the room. Or rather, Vince was still in the house and he was with Gloria. Pollution spotted the two of them by the edge of the crowd, talking and laughing and dancing very close together. Is that what they had done the whole night?

Pollution’s stomach turned.

They got up and tried to get closer, maybe they could pull Gloria away for a while so the two of them could hang out. They hadn’t seen her for hours and they wanted to spend time with her. As friends. Nothing else.

They had gotten almost within earshot of the two of them, ready to call out to Gloria when disaster struck.

Vince had kissed her, and she didn’t pull away. She might’ve even kissed back.

That’s when reality hit Pollution like a speeding train.

All of this, the party, trying to make friends, trying to have fun. It was just.. a distraction from the fact they were alone. They always had been. Their main friend group consisted of the other horsepeople, who all had known each other much longer than Pollution had even existed and it showed whenever they interacted, and Gloria. 

And now, it was abundantly clear that Gloria didn’t  _ need _ them to have a good time. She had her other friends. She had other connections with people. She had Vince. It wasn’t like Pollution’s stance in the world, clinging to people who already had others.

They were an outsider looking in. Trying to get in. But it just didn’t work. And the sight of Gloria, arms around someone else, made that really,  _ really  _ clear.

Pollution’s chest was pounding and the room around them was being drowned out by their own heartbeat banging in their ears. The lights made them feel like they were melting. The lights were getting brighter. Brighter. Brighter still.

Until they popped, cutting the house’s power. And the entire neighborhood’s alongside it.

“What’s going on!?”

“Yo, who turned out the lights?”

“I can’t see anything!”

The whole crowd started to panic, what the fuck just happened? Pollution had a feeling it was because of them. So, they did the first thing they could think of.

They ran. Ran as fast as their legs could carry them out of the house and back to their dorm.


	7. Office Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a party like that, Pollution takes time to recoup. And by recoup, I mean wallow.

Making it back to their dorm room was the easy part. The hard part was what was Pollution going to do now that they slammed the door shut and locked it, all alone inside? Their brain was racing sixty miles a minute, and they suddenly felt incredibly sick again. 

This was a different kind of sick than before, where last time they felt like their stomach was ready to leap out of their throat, all over some poor bastard’s coat no less- This time, it was like there was a pit slowly cracking wider and wider, swallowing them from the inside out.

The sound of their phone ringing made them nearly jump out of their skin. 

Pollution fumbled with it, and the only way this could possibly get worse just so happened to be the person calling them. Gloria.

They gulped. Play it cool, play it cool.

“Hello?” They said as they answered,

“Oh, thank god.” Pollution heard her mutter. “Chalky, where are you?” She asked, a bit of panic in her voice. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m in the dorms. I left like an hour ago.” They lied. “Why, what happened?”

“The power went out and people freaked.” Pollution wouldn’t admit that it was definitely because of them and their stupid feelings. “Jesus, it looks like the whole block’s gone dark.”

“Oh shit, that’s crazy.” They said as if they hadn’t seen it happen. “Are _ you _ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m chill. Me and Vince were downstairs dancing when it happened.” Pollution wouldn’t say that was _ everything _they were doing together. “We found Trey, Danny, and Janet but when we couldn’t find you I panicked.”

“You went looking for me?”

“Chalky, what kinda question is that? Of course we did.” Gloria said. “Its what friends do.”

Friends. She really did consider them a friend? Even when she had plenty of other friends, better friends…

“Chalks, do you feel ok?” She asked, Pollution snapping back from their thoughts. “You sound off.”  
  
“I-I think I just drank too much.” How do you fake sounding fucked up but not in a way that’s too concerning? “Kinda dizzy.”

“Geez.. You gotta watch your liquor, dude.” Gloria sighed. “Get some rest. I’ll check on you in the morning, alright? And keep your shoes on. Swear to god, you won’t find your left one if you don’t.”

“...Right. Thanks, Gloria.” Pollution said as they hung up, flopping backwards onto their bed. The sheets made a mildly strange crackling sound, but it was probably from the dried oil seeped into them. “Fuck..” They muttered, gripping at the bed slightly, tightly, and let out a deep sigh. “Now what am I gonna do?”

———

The correct answer to Pollution’s question was mope. Mope around their room for the next week. When Gloria had stopped by to check on them the morning after the party, Pollution had faked being sick and insisted that Gloria not get too close, so she wouldn’t catch it. How convincing it was depended heavily on if you would fall for someone saying there was the word ‘gullible’ written in big block letters on the ceiling and that you just _ had _to look. Luckily for Pollution, Gloria had no reason to not believe them. 

This led to her leaving them be, but not before telling them that she and Vince were an item now! She looked so thrilled. Wasn’t that great? 

“Yeah.. It’s great, Glor.” Pollution told her through a grated smile. “I’m so happy for you two.”

That just made them feel way, _ way _worse.

And so, they stayed in their room, slowly growing metaphorical mushrooms- and literal mushrooms peeking out from the corner of their room behind their leaking mini fridge- and not going to class. They would just lay in bed under the covers and stare at the ceiling- which may or may not have gained a few water damage spots in the last few days- and just think. Think and mope. 

The other horsepeople had called them up, they wanted to know how the party had gone after all! But, Pollution couldn’t dare video call now. Their face looked as though they had been run over by a bus made entirely of sadness. So, they lied and said their phone camera broke at the party and their laptop got submerged in a can of paint. Surprisingly, they bought it. Pollution wasn’t sure what that said about both them and what they thought about Pollution, but that didn’t matter right now.

What mattered was wallowing.

Pollution had sat cross legged in a small pile of empty chip bags while on their laptop for about seven hours, binging social media and listening to mildly sad playlists on Spotify when they had gotten an email. 

It was a school email, which normally they had made automatically go right into their spam folder, but the contact information was different than the usual ‘do-not-reply’ one that seemed to be more frequent with every passing day. ‘Dorothy.Valentine’?

Wait a damn minute.

Pollution opened the email. Sure enough, it was Ms. V. The realization had hit them there that they had missed three classes in a row that week with absolutely no notice. For all she knew, Chalky Weiss, her most tolerated student, might be dead. Not that they _ could _ die, of course. But it wasn’t like Ms. V would ever learn that.

_ ‘Dear Chalky, _

_ I noticed you missed all scheduled classes this week nor have you emailed me any type of excuses. Are you sick? If so, please just shoot me an email to let me know and we’ll work on getting you your missed lecture material. If you need anything else, please feel free to stop by my office. My door is always open, at least during office hours. _

_ Best wishes, Ms. Valentine.’ _

Pollution’s mouse hovered over the reply button. It’d be really easy to just lie and say they had- oh, what had Pestilence told them about once? Pneumonia? Whatever, the disease itself didn’t matter, long as it was even a little convincing- and that would be the end of it. But, part of them hesitated. They were getting real sick of feeling this shittily, and they didn’t expect it to go away any time soon if they continued moping. Not that they were suddenly lusting for life and to step past this, but even in their gross, mucky, emotionally-overloaded state they realized they could use some advice. And who could give better relationship advice than the woman who started half her conversations with “The bastard I used to be married to-“ and somehow talked about different men every time but still had her life together?

So, Pollution found her office hours in the crumpled pile of syllabuses that sat on their desk, before heading out. Lucky break for them, her door was open now.

———

Ms. V sat in her office, grading paper after paper while she sipped at her work-flask. Give her a break, ok? It’s not easy keeping up with grades, especially mid-semester. Besides, it wasn’t like it was vodka in there. No, that was saved for her night-class-flask. Her work-flask was pinot blanc. 

There was a knock at her door, which prompted her to quickly shut the damn thing and hide it in her desk drawer.

“Come in!” She said, wiping her lips of a dribble of white wine. In walked Pollution, looking worse for wear, which was hard to do considering they normally looked like a coal miner from the 1920s. “Oh, Chalky. Good to see you, I was wondering how you were doing. You look..” Be professional, Dorothy. “In good health.”

“Hi, Ms. V.” They said, closing the door behind them. “Sorry to drop by unannounced.”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s what office hours are for, aren’t they?” Ms. V said, motioning to the chair in front of her. “Sit, sit.” 

Pollution did as instructed and looked around the room, which was filled with some nice artwork of different types. A couple canvases lined up together depicting that one famous Marilyn Monroe pop art piece, a framed screen print of a girl sitting on a cliff by crashing waves, and an etching of a woman holding a bouquet of daffodils just to name a few. Definitely something Pollution could’ve expected from someone like Ms. V.

“Are you alright?” She asked them. “Missing class like that isn’t like you.”

“I’m.. fine.” Physically anyway, that was true. “Just wasn’t feeling too hot s’all.”

“Well, i'm glad you’re better. My star student not showing up definitely puts a damper on lecture.” She said. 

“Right.” They nodded, quietly looking away. Their breathing slowed, trying to think of how exactly do they ask this type of thing. It’s not like they had ever gone to anyone for advice before, let alone advice for things like _ feelings _. 

“You.. said I could stop by if I needed anything, right?” Pollution asked awkwardly as they fiddled with their hands in their lap.

“Yeah. Why? Somethin’ the matter?” Ms. V asked. 

“I.. I need some advice.” They said. “Romantic, advice.”

“Ohh, Christ on a stick, what happened?” She groaned. “Who hurt you?”

“No one! No one.” Pollution said quickly. “It’s.. kinda complicated.”

“Kid, I invented complicated. After my second husband ended up faking his death and marrying me _ again _four years later under a different name once I got a face lift.” Somehow, Pollution didn’t even doubt the possibility of that considering who they were talking to. “Now spill.”

“Me and my suitemate, we went to a party at Psi Kappa Alpha last week. And.. Early on, we split up. She went to dance with this guy who-” The words felt like a clump of dirt stuck in their throat. “I don’t really like. And I was alone.” They let out a tiny sigh. “I saw the two of them kiss. And it dawned on me that.. I have feelings for her.” It was both cathartic and painful to admit, but Pollution needed advice. No beating around the bush. “But, I chickened out and ran. Now they’re dating.”

“Oh, Chalky..” Ms. V tsked. “You poor thing. You never run from the one you love.”

“I-I wouldn’t call it love, strong wording.” They said, their cheeks turned slightly pink.

“Whatever. Look, I can’t tell you to key this guy’s car, because you’re my student and if word got out about that I’d get reprimanded again.” She said. “But, I can tell you don’t wanna mess things up with this girl, ‘else you would tell her how you feel.”

“I don’t..”

“Then be an adult and work through it. You can’t sit around moping about your emotions forever. It’s good to let them out, yeah, but you gotta try to be constructive. Use your art to help cope.” Ms. V opened her desk drawer and fumbled through some paperwork before pulling out a file. When she opened it, there was a pile of modeled still life art, sketched in pencil and gone over in oil pastels. “Whenever I feel down, I draw pretty people. Reminds me there’s beauty in the world. Find your own art therapy. And again, I’m not saying you _ shouldn’t _key his car.”

Pollution couldn’t help but chuckle, even just a bit. First time they laughed in a whole week. Maybe she had a point- not about the keying Vince’s car thing, but the whole art therapy thing. They hadn’t really done much of anything all week, let alone art. There had been no motivation for it. But, maybe this could do them some good.

Once they had left Ms. V’s office, Pollution’s phone buzzed. It was Gloria. Their heart had worked its way back into their throat as they read her message.

“I saw you finally left your cave, lol. I hope you’re feeling better. Wanna get lunch at Sleazy Cheese’s, if you’re up for it?” Pollution gulped, letting their not-actually-physical-heart settle back down into its normal spot. They weren’t gonna risk their friendship with her over something like this. It was weird to say, but Gloria was important to them. 

“Sure, i’ll meet you there.” Pollution texted back. “Don’t forget, you owe me from last time.”

Ding!

“Claiming I didn’t win may be an insult to my pride and my entire livelihood, but i’ll overlook it _ this _ time because you were sick.” Pollution smiled softly. 

They definitely were sick alright, love sick.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the relationship of the Gay student and their well-meaning female english teacher whose a mother figure? That’s Pollution and Ms. V, except Ms. V is more of a wine-aunt figure.
> 
> Hope y’all enjoyed! Leave some love and comments if you did!


End file.
